Like I am Made of Paper
by Ayingott
Summary: You know what, Tezuka? I wouldn't mind being killed by you.


**Disclaimer: Ayingott owns this story as much as she owns the computer it was written on. Meaning - nadda.**

**Warning: Depressive crap story. Crappy grammar and spelling mistakes.**

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><p><strong>Like I am Made of Paper<strong>

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><p>I wake up at the sight of the dirty floor once again, just like every morning. My whole body aches and hurts, even while I dod nothing but breathe and stare at the small specks of light on the wall. It was what I wake up to every day. Or maybe it is still morning, I wonder.<p>

How much had I spent in this room now? Days, weeks, months? I had forgotten what the outside lookes like, how the wind feels against my face and the smell of grass, the warmth of the sun and the laugher of humans. I have forgotten it all by now. Only my own screams haunt my dreams now.

Or what is left of the at least.

You know, I don't care about it at all. Not anymore. Because I agreed to all of this in exchange for your love. Others called me stupid and crazy and sick and… But I just wanted for you to love me back. Even just a little bit. That was all that I asked, what I _needed_.

I didn't mind being killed by you. If it was you…

I am too tired to get up from the dirty floor. My body won't let me move, your marks are still too fresh on it. But I am strangely proud of them. I know it's sick and weird and wrong… but I am proud to carry these wounds that you placed on me. Because you did it. You put them on me. You.

Just you.

Even the blood that I lost, the hunger that doesn't go away, the pain and the suffering… If that's all that I have to do to be loved by you, I'm ok with it.

But you know… you know what, Tezuka… I think.. I am starting to think that I maybe I don't love you after all. Because, you are no longer the one that I looked up to, the one that I loved and the one that made me open my eyes once. You are no longer him…

And still, I don't mind being killed by you.

And yet, each time I think of the next time you come into this room where I am, my hearts starts to hurt just a little bit. It wasn't like this at first, was it? But now it has turned into something horrible. And yet I am proud.. Proud of my scars that no one will ever see, proud of the bruises that don't seem to go away…

I am proud of them and that is what makes me sick. It makes me so sick I want to cry and vomit and just… not wake up the next time I fall asleep. And yet… And yet I want to see your face just one more time.

It's strange, isn't it? I hate you and you make me sick, but I love you at the same time too. I would think that it's strange and creepy and that I should finally leave, but you know, we both know, that I no longer can. It would just hurt too much.

What are those footsteps? Are you coming again? But when you come your footsteps aren't so fast and hectic. They are slow and soft. These ones... they rush, as if searching for something. Is it me? No, it's not me.

It's never me.

But you know what, Tezuka? I think I was wrong. Because, those doors open and that's not you that comes inside and calls my name as if he's afraid I might die any moment now. Or maybe I already am dying? I wouldn't have these kinds of thoughts otherwise.

He holds me like you never did. The warmth of his body slowly sips into me. It's a strange feeling, something that you have never given to me. His brown hair tickles my face a bit, but you know… I like it. It's a nice, soft feeling.

"Don't you dare die on me, Echizen." He says. Though, it's as if he doesn't believe his own words. Strange, why would he be saying them, if he can't trust them?

But I don't mind dying. I really don't. It will mean that I have moved on, to a better place and life. But.. Strangely I want to stay a bit longer. Maybe because of him? Or maybe I still love you? But I thought that I don't love you anymore… Oh wait, I did love you. I still do.

He's calling someone now.

Is there someone else coming? I hope not. I don't want them to see my scars, the ones that I am so proud of. Or maybe I do? I can't remember anymore, so much has changed in just a few minutes. Or were they hours? Even that has changed, huh?

But seeing him cry for me.. It's not such a bad feeling. It's kind of nice; it warms me up a bit. That has never happened before, so why now? Because he's here? Or because I am dying? I don't know.

"I don't want to die…" those words come out of my mouth on their own, I swear. Because, I still don't know what I want and what I feel. But I should linger around a bit longer to find out…. Maybe. For him?

"Fuji-sempai."


End file.
